


Patch Me Up (And Fall In Love)

by WardenRoot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22789885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenRoot/pseuds/WardenRoot
Summary: Laurel gets hurt after getting in a fight and, deciding it's the only way not to let the public think the anti-vigilante law is being violated by beloved public figure Laurel Lance, Dinah takes her home to patch her up.
Relationships: Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 27
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anon, I hope you like it <3
> 
> Thank you to @Starling83 for betaing this, @AvaHasAClosetMurderBoard for helping me a bunch with the plot, and @Superstitious18 for yelling encouragements at me and helping with last minute posting stuff, love y'all ♥

Dinah taps her fingers on the wheel of her car, eagerly looking forward to being able to unwind after the day in her apartment. The radio in her car turns on, but Dinah ignores the words spoken by her colleague, too set on getting home. That is, until the words “Canary cry” are uttered from the small thing. Cursing under her breath, she takes a very much illegal turn as she speeds towards the location mentioned. If reports of a vigilante — true or not — pop up over the city, they’re all gonna be in big trouble.

When she arrives at the scene, she is relieved to see no other cops there yet. Unholstering her gun, she enters into the dark alley, because _ of course _ that’s where  _ whoever _ this is has decided to pick their fights. 

“Freeze!” she calls out when she spots a dark silhouette. Of course,  _ because why wouldn’t they, _ the person takes off running. Dinah is about to sprint after them when she hears a groan to her left. Actually looking the scene over, she notices a number of bodies lying on the ground. But one in particular catches her attention. Eyes locking onto someone slumped against the wall, Dinah tells herself she doesn’t already know whose face is hiding underneath the dark hoodie.

Carefully stepping over the unconscious bodies and holstering her gun, she kneels next to the person. Their head lolls forward and Dinah’s hands shoot out to keep it steady. As she gently lifts it, the hoodie falls away, revealing a too familiar face. 

The cop in her wants to leave the person there, wants to wait for back-up and properly work the scene. She tells herself the only reason she doesn’t is because beloved public figure Laurel Lance being caught breaking the law would only create chaos for everyone. 

Knowing she has to move before any cops can arrive there, Dinah hoists Laurel over her shoulder and carries her over to her car. Laurel lets out a few more groans on the way, but remains otherwise unconscious. At least if she stays unconscious, dealing with all this will be easier. As long as she doesn’t die.

Once she’s actually gotten both of them in her car and driven onto the road, Dinah asks herself what her plan is. She comes to the conclusion she has none. Laurel needs medical attention, but having to explain her state to a hospital would lead to the same conclusions as leaving her at the scene of the fight.

_ Why the hell had Laurel even been in a fight? _

Shaking the question away, Dinah does the only thing she can think of. She takes her home with her.

Thankfully, Dinah’s neighbors have all long since gone to bed, and the only thing she has to worry about as she carries Laurel through the building is to be as noiseless as possible.

When she finally arrives at her apartment, she puts Laurel down on the couch, realizing too late that she really should have put something between the dirty clothes and her clean couch. When she leaves to find her first aid kit, Laurel is still unconscious, and Dinah hopes it won’t change.

When she comes back, first aid kit in hand, Laurel hasn’t stirred. If Dinah is lucky, she’ll stay unconscious through the night.

Putting the first aid kit down on the table, she gently reaches for the zipper of Laurel’s hoodie. She’ll have to remove at least some of her clothes if she is to assess the damage caused by her fight. The zipper goes down without a hitch, but when she tries to ease one of Laurel’s arms out of it, she suddenly finds herself with a hand on her neck. Out of instinct, she pries it away, and Laurel’s grip loosens easily given how weak she currently is.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Laurel asks, steely gaze trained on Dinah. Of course she couldn’t be lucky for just one night.

Dinah gestures to the first aid kit, then to the state Laurel is in. “If you’ll stay still, I was going to make sure you don’t bleed out or die of an infection.”

Laurel’s eyes travel dubiously between Dinah and the first aid kit. “I’m just supposed to believe that you’re patching  _ me _ up out of the goodness of your heart?” Laurel’s voice is strong, but her eyes betray an underlying fear. A fear of  _ Dinah _ .

Dinah sighs. She supposes she can’t blame Laurel for doubting her — with their history, Dinah is still a little surprised to find herself doing this. But, she has to. For the team. For Oliver, so his sacrifice for them wasn’t in vain. That’s the  _ only _ reason she has allowed herself to get in this situation.

“Why would I go through the trouble of bringing you here if I wasn’t going to help?” she asks, a dull headache starting to set in.

“For the Captain of the SCPD I suspect keeping murder somewhere private would probably be a good idea.”

“Will you please just let me have a look at your injuries and then we can both go our separate ways and forget this ever happened?” Dinah knows it won’t be that easy. If her injuries are half as bad as Dinah expects, she’ll need to be monitored for the next few days. And seeing as the hospital is not an option and Laurel has no one else, that leaves Dinah, as much as she hates it.

“Fine.” Laurel’s face hardens, but she stops looking like she’s going to — very unsuccessfully in her current state — jump up from the couch and run away. Dinah decides to take it as a win.

“Thank you,” Dinah sighs, finally removing Laurel’s hoodie with minimal resistance. Muddy water from the alley has seeped through it and created a layer of dirt on her arms, and that’s the first thing Dinah sets herself to cleaning so she can actually see any potential injuries underneath.

She loses track of how long she sits there, cleaning and cataloguing Laurel’s wounds. The process is mostly painless, with Laurel being too tired for her usual snark. Looking at her injuries, a time when Dinah was responsible for something similar flashes in her mind. She would feel guilty if not for the fact she still thinks Laurel deserved it at the time.

And yet, now here she is, patching up her injuries instead of causing them.

When she’s finally done, Laurel is practically down to only her underwear, her ruined clothes in a pile on the floor. “There,” Dinah says, closing the first aid kit back up.

“Can I go now?” Laurel asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Dinah’s eyes follow the action, catching on the cleavage only made more visible by Laurel’s action. 

Tearing her gaze away, she chuckles. “You’re welcome to try.”

Laurel narrows her eyes, gingerly trying to right herself on the couch. What Dinah can only assume is a flash of pain runs through her, and she falls back down to her previous position.

“If you  _ had  _ to kidnap me, you might as well make sure I’m comfortable for the night,” she mutters, her icy glare back on Dinah to cover up the fact that she couldn’t leave even if she wanted to.

“Of course, your highness.” Dinah rolls her eyes as she finds a blanket and gently covers Laurel’s body with it. She tells herself her motions are so careful because she doesn’t want to undo all her hard work patching Laurel up. Moving to turn off the lights, she lets out a, “Sweet dreams.” The bite isn’t quite there in her words as she catches Laurel making herself more comfortable out of the corner of her eye.

“Whatever,” Laurel responds, and without her permission, the smallest smile plays at Dinah’s lips. She hides it as she pads over to her room, eager to be alone. 

She is content to leave it at that and let Laurel be alone until morning, but after two hours have gone by, Dinah’s internal clock wakes her up, refusing to let herself go back to sleep. With a sigh, she jumps up from her bed. If she’s awake anyway, she might go bother Laurel as well, on the off chance that she has a concussion.

Laurel reacts immediately when Dinah turns the lights on. “Seriously?” she grumbles, glaring in the direction of the light switch as if that will turn it back off.

“After a possible concussion, patients should be woken up every two to three hours,” Dinah recites, walking over to Laurel and gently but firmly grabbing onto her chin. Laurel’s murderous gaze is turned on her then, and had Dinah been anyone else, she would have run away with her tail between her legs. But Laurel Lance doesn’t scare her. She figures that only makes Laurel more annoyed, which is another plus in Dinah’s book.

“Well, I’m fine, so you can run back to your room now.” Despite Laurel’s words, Dinah spends a few extra seconds inspecting her. Her fingers trail from Laurel’s chin to her forehead, and Dinah thinks she does it to check her temperature, but suddenly she finds them brushing Laurel’s messy hair out of her face. She swears neither of them take a breath until Dinah’s touch leaves Laurel’s skin.

She is half-tempted to check on Laurel’s many wounds and bruises, but quickly forces that idea out of her mind. It’s bad enough she actually bothered getting out of bed to check on her. Without another word, she turns the lights back off and returns to her bed.

She wakes up every two hours to check that Laurel is still alive. She tells herself she only does it because the last thing she needs is a dead body in her apartment.

***

Laurel stirs when Dinah is almost done with breakfast. She throws some scrambled eggs and toast on two plates and dumps one of them on Laurel’s lap, then sits down on the couch in front of her legs. Laurel picks on it dubiously, as if she expects some form of poison to reveal itself if she stares at it long enough. Dinah rolls her eyes and reaches for Laurel’s toast, taking a bite out of it to show it won’t kill her.

Laurel turns up her nose, but at least she starts eating the toast, even if she takes care to start on the opposite end of where Dinah took a bite. Shaking her head, Dinah digs into her own breakfast. After the first couple bites, she turns on the TV, if only to have something to fill the silence.

Adjusting herself on the couch, Laurel’s foot kicks into Dinah’s back. She’s about to say something, but when she glances over at Laurel, she looks so focused on what she’s doing, so  _ human _ as she tries to fight the pain enough to sit up properly, and Dinah can’t form any words. The blanket falls down, revealing the dirty, rolled-up tank top she had slept in, and Dinah remembers her lack of clothes.

Putting her empty plate down on the table, she says, “I’ll find you some fresh clothes. You can change into them after I’ve checked your wounds.” The look Laurel sends her is indecipherable, but Dinah chooses to take it as assent. Leaving Laurel to finish her breakfast, Dinah retreats to her room. She emerges with a loose pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt that’s way too big for her. Hopefully they’ll be okay for Laurel to wear over her wounds.

“Are you okay to walk?” she asks when she reenters the living room.

Without giving her an answer, Laurel wraps the blanket tightly around herself and tries to stand up. Which, to her credit, she manages, but it’s not hard to tell by her scrunched-up face that it’s causing her more pain than she wants to show. Sighing, Dinah walks over and scoops her up in her arms.

“What the  _ hell _ ,” Laurel exclaims, her hand hitting Dinah’s shoulder harder than necessary. 

“There’s no point in you putting yourself in agony just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help.” Dinah tries to shrug, but the motion doesn’t quite go through with the weight of Laurel in her arms.

“I’m not a child.” There’s a pout on Laurel’s lips, and Dinah really shouldn’t find it as adorable as she does.

“Then stop acting like one,” she reasons, stopping in front of the closed door to the bathroom. “And please open the bathroom door.” With an exaggerated gesture, Laurel, rather aggressively, pushes the handle down and practically throws the door open. 

Dinah can’t be bothered to comment on it as she maneuvers them inside and puts Laurel down. She places the clean clothes on the counter, looks around for the first aid kit, and quickly checks over the wounds of a  _ mostly _ compliant Laurel. When she’s done, she searches the room awkwardly for something else she might need to do, then walks back out the door. “Yell if you need anything.”

“I won’t.” 

Dinah rolls her eyes as she closes the door behind herself. Keeping an ear out for anything bad happening in the bathroom, she starts cleaning up after their breakfast. Before she as much as manages to move the dirty plates to the kitchen, her phone vibrates with her alarm to get ready for work.  _ Shit _ . With her focus completely taken up by making sure Laurel was okay, she had forgotten all about work.

Typing in her work’s number faster than she possibly ever has, she makes up some excuse about being too sick to come in. She can’t just leave Laurel in this state.

Once that is dealt with, she busies herself with finishing cleaning up. She is just about done when she hears groaning coming from the bathroom. Quickly making her way there, she finds Laurel in the doorframe, clutching the door handle as she tries to keep herself up. Dinah couldn’t have prepared herself for the look of Laurel in her clothes even if she tried. Even though they’re clearly too big for her — as they are for Dinah, as well — they look like they were made to be worn by her.

Rolling her eyes at herself this time, she crosses her arms in front of her chest and raises an expectant eyebrow at Laurel. Laurel meets her gaze, her eyes filled with stubbornness. 

After a beat, Laurel finally gives in. “A little help?” she asks, her voice impatient as she averts her gaze from Dinah’s. Dinah can’t help the corner of her lips quirking up as she closes the distance between them and scoops Laurel up in her arms once again. This time, Laurel’s hand comes to rest gently on her shoulder, even though she still refuses to meet Dinah’s gaze. There’s something oddly comforting about having the weight of Laurel in her arms.

Putting Laurel back down on the couch, she asks, “Can I get you anything?”

“Do you have any coffee in this place?” Dinah pauses to think for a few seconds if someone this injured should have caffeine. She lands on the conclusion that she doesn’t really care; if Laurel wants to drink coffee that’s her decision, and Dinah could really use a big cup of it herself. And so she pads over to the kitchen and starts her coffee making routine.

And that’s about how it goes for the rest of the day. They sit side by side on the couch, the TV playing just so they have something to fill the silence and focus on that isn’t the person beside them. Dinah carries Laurel to the bathroom whenever she has to use it. Despite Laurel being intent on fighting the help being offered at first, they get into a routine at the end. The last few times, Dinah’s even pretty sure that Laurel had seemed  _ comfortable _ in her arms. They order food for dinner, Dinah being in no mood to cook.

Which brings them here. The table is littered with empty food containers and the TV is still playing softly in the background. And Laurel is asleep on the couch, her head rolled onto the back of the couch in a way that can’t be comfortable. Dinah lets out a yawn of her own, and she reasons it’s time for bed.

Before that, however, she quickly cleans up the mess they’ve made of her table. The last thing she needs is waking up to a mess needing to be cleaned. Next, she turns the TV off and gets herself ready for bed. When she passes by the couch, Laurel still sleeping while half-sitting up, guilt worms its way into her stomach.

She feels bad leaving Laurel to sleep on the couch. She knows from experience it’s not comfortable to spend the night on. Cursing her conscience for having decided to care about Laurel’s comfort, she scoops her up for the last time that day. Laurel adjusts sleepily in her arms, and Dinah holds her breath as she prepares herself for the worst. If Laurel wakes up to this, Dinah is certain she will have to endure some teasing.

She lets out her breath when Laurel stills, her head resting against Dinah’s shoulder and her hand lazily hanging around Dinah’s neck. Dinah is once again hit by how much she doesn’t mind this, carrying Laurel around in her arms, but she bats the thought away. She is only doing this so Laurel won’t die and the city won’t devolve into chaos. That’s all.

When she puts Laurel down on her bed, Laurel’s hand catches on her shirt. When Dinah pries it away, she can almost swear Laurel had been clutching onto her neckline.

As Dinah gets into bed on the other side, she is thankful her bed is more than big enough, so they can both comfortably lie there with ample space between them.

***

When Dinah wakes up, it’s to an extraordinarily cold morning. It’s not helped by the fact that her blanket seems to have completely disappeared from her body. Looking over at the other side of the bed, it’s not hard to see why. Despite having given Laurel a blanket of her own, it seems to have somehow made its way over the edge of the bed, with Dinah’s blanket resting comfortably around Laurel’s form.

Dinah should be angry, annoyed, frustrated,  _ something _ . And she is just a little bit annoyed at having her blanket stolen. But Laurel looks so comfortable, still asleep and with her nose buried in the blanket. 

Something tugs in Dinah’s chest, and that’s her cue to get the hell out of bed.

Thankfully Laurel stays asleep as she sneaks out of the room, and Dinah gets started on her morning routine in peace. She quickly lets work know she’s still sick, only feeling a little bit guilty about her continuous lie. This time when she starts breakfast, she puts the coffee on right away. She doesn’t know if it was because  _ she  _ had had coffee or because  _ Laurel  _ had had coffee — maybe both — but yesterday had been a lot more bearable after coffee, so Dinah figures she might as well start with it.

As if on cue, Laurel wakes up right as Dinah gets their plates ready. “Hello?” she calls, her voice questioning, but Dinah can hear just the tiniest hint of the fear from the first night.

“I’m right here,” Dinah calls, quickly moving everything to the coffee table before going to check on her houseguest.

“Oh, good. There you are,” Laurel says, trying her best to act nonchalant, when Dinah pushes through the door. “You know, usually I like people to buy me dinner before I end up in their bed.”

“I did buy you dinner yesterday.” Dinah crosses her arms, resisting the urge to smirk as Laurel’s brow creases. “And, why, you’re very welcome that I was kind enough to let you sleep in my bed instead of the uncomfortable couch.”

“Whatever. Are you going to help me  _ out _ of it or were you planning on keeping me prisoner here?” Dinah rolls her eyes. She should have just carried the coffee in here on a tray.

She walks to her closet before acquiescing to Laurel’s wish, finding her a fresh set of clothes. She throws them at Laurel before picking her up. If Dinah is going to be carrying Laurel, the least Laurel can do is carry her clothes.

As the day goes on, the air around them only grows colder. The day passes much as the first one, only with the cold, Dinah finds herself inching closer to Laurel on the couch, and she’s pretty sure Laurel does the same. By the time their shoulders are nearly touching, Dinah swears electricity crackles through her. Ignoring it, she tries to focus extra hard on the TV, and not the warmth seeping towards her from her companion. 

After a particularly cold gust seeping inside the apartment has them both shivering, Dinah pulls a nearby blanket towards herself and wraps it around the both of them. Laurel tenses at first, but then she slowly relaxes, allowing Dinah to move even closer to her so they can wrap the blanket properly around the both of them. Dinah tries her very best not to think about how good Laurel feels against her side. It’s probably nothing more than the warmth she gives off.

That’s as far as either of them move for the foreseeable future, until there is a sudden weight on Dinah’s shoulder. It’s only midday, but looking to her side, Dinah spots a sleeping Laurel, having decided Dinah’s shoulder would do for a pillow. Without thinking, Dinah slowly lifts her hand and gently pushes Laurel’s hair out of her face. Her skin is warm to the touch, and for a second, Dinah is tempted to leave her hand there.

Immediately turning her thoughts to something else, she decides she should use the quiet to get something productive done in the apartment. Maybe do some cleaning.

As carefully as she can, she keeps Laurel somewhat upright with her arm as she stands up. Then she picks Laurel up, same as she’s done so many times over the past couple of days, and carries her back to her bed. She makes sure to tuck her in extra well with the blanket, to battle the cold. On her way out, she stops at the threshold, turning around to look at Laurel’s uncharacteristically peaceful form.

Before she can be frozen there staring for a creepy amount of time, someone rings the doorbell. Pulled out of her thoughts, Dinah silently closes the bedroom door, suddenly anxious whoever is at the door will find the former DA in her apartment.

She takes a quick look over the apartment to make sure it doesn’t look like someone else is staying there, even though she would prefer if whoever is on the other side doesn’t come inside. The ringing grows more insistent, and Dinah grabs her gun before opening, just in case whoever is on the other side is one of Laurel’s  _ friends _ .

Opening the door, she relaxes when she sees who it is. That, however, is a mistake, as Curtis uses her lax hold on the door to push past her without as much as a “hello”.

“What—”

“Where is she?”

***

Laurel pulls her blanket over her ear, willing whatever had distured her nap to  _ stop _ . When it doesn’t, and Laurel properly wakes up, she frowns. She has been put back in Dinah’s bed, but with how slowly time moves when she has nothing to do, she doesn’t know if it’s the next day or if Dinah just dumped her in there the first chance she got.

Focusing on the disturbance that had woken her, her blood runs cold.  _ Someone else is in the apartment. _ A number of possibilities run through Laurel’s mind. Someone from her old life could have gotten wind of where she is and come for some form of revenge — or worse, to recruit her back into that life.  _ Dinah _ could have grown tired of her and finally called for someone to take Laurel off her hands.

Or maybe it’s something more mundane, something non-life-threatening, like a lover who was missing her. Laurel hasn’t thought about the fact that Dinah might be dating someone, that Laurel might have kept her from them. Something uncomfortable settles in her chest, and Laurel suddenly feels the need for fresh air.

Her head whips to the door when she hears what can only be her name yelled loudly by a voice decidedly not belonging to Dinah. She quickly glances at the window. In her condition, she doubts she’d get far, but if it comes to it, the window seems to be her only escape route.

Before she decides if she has to risk it, and as carefully as she can, she gets out of bed. Even though everything hurts less today, it still  _ hurts _ , and forcing her legs to keep her weight up is easier said than done. But, with her survival instincts taking over, she manages to shuffle her way to the door, biting back any noise she might want to make. When she finally makes it, she gently rests her ear against the wood, trying to discern if she needs to bolt or not.

***

“I have a video of you taking her, D!” Curtis holds his tablet up and Dinah’s heart sinks. She hadn’t realized there were any cameras nearby. “I wiped it so even if anyone decides to look they won’t find anything. But you have to admit—” Curtis clicks play on the tablet, showing her a video of her carrying Laurel over her shoulder— “this looks suspicious.”

“It’s not what it looks like?” Dinah really didn’t want to have to explain to anyone what she had done. She’s still having trouble figuring out why she has been so accommodating, so  _ caring _ .

“I just want to make sure you haven’t done anything you’ll regret.” Curtis’ voice is softer now, the caring friend Dinah has come to know and love. He puts the tablet down on the table, and when he looks back at her, his eyes are full of understanding. And that’s when Dinah realizes exactly what Curtis thinks she has done.

“Oh,  _ God _ ,” she says, dropping herself onto the couch. “I didn’t  _ kill _ her.” Curtis sits down right next to her, and it seems so alien with another presence in the space she has gotten used to sharing with Laurel.

“Okay.” Dinah only picks up on a little doubt in Curtis’ voice, and she supposes, with her and Laurel’s history, she can’t quite blame him. “Then where is she?”

Dinah involuntarily glances at her bedroom door, but she moves her gaze again immediately, hoping Curtis won’t have noticed. For some reason, divulging everything seems too… intimate. “She’s safe,” she says, looking back at Curtis. When Curtis only continues looking at her, she follows it with, “I wouldn’t hurt her.” She frowns as she looks down at the ground, her insides in turmoil.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that it’s not so long ago that you were running around intent on killing her…” Dinah glances at the bedroom door again, wondering if she should just show him proof of life. Laurel’s still asleep — or, at least Dinah  _ hopes _ the intrusion hasn’t woken her up — and surely it would make Curtis’ line of questioning stop.

But as she looks at the door, she just can’t help but feel like she’d be betraying Laurel’s trust if she did it. Not that she thinks Curtis would  _ do _ something, but still.

Dinah nearly jumps when she feels a warm hand on hers. Curtis means it as comfort, she’s sure. And yet, despite the break her hand gets from the still cold air, all she can think is that she wishes the hand was Laurel’s. That Laurel was here to bring her warmth, instead of hidden away in her room.

Dinah jumps to her feet, suddenly feeling too filled up with energy. She vaguely registers Curtis’ confused gaze following her movements, but it doesn’t feel important as she walks circles around her apartment. Twisting her fingers just to have something to do with them, her mind wanders to Laurel. To the way her skin seems to light up like a flame when it touches Laurel’s. The way that, even though her glaring would send anyone running, Dinah just finds it oddly adorable.

She thinks of the weight of Laurel in her arms when she carries her somewhere, the soft, dismayed grumble Laurel makes when she needs the help, how perfect and right it all feels.

Then her mind jumps to how scared Laurel had been that first night, a fear she rarely lets people see. And the way she had relaxed as Dinah patched her up, the way she had accepted Dinah’s help.

“ _ Oh _ .” It’s like a switch being flipped in her mind as she finally comes to understand what has happened, why she’s been so thorough with Laurel’s care. She doesn’t mean to say the next words out loud, but they roll off her tongue anyway. “I have feelings for her.” She hears a choking noise coming from the couch, and she remembers whose company she’s in. Accepting that Curtis has already heard her revelation, she follows it with, “That’s why I wouldn’t hurt her.”

Curtis looks as shocked at the revelation as Dinah feels. “Do you want to… talk about it? I mean that sounds, that sounds complicated.”

“Yeah,” Dinah agrees. “And, no. If you don’t mind, I think I’d prefer being alone.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course.” Curtis stands up, nearly forgetting about his tablet as he walks towards the door before Dinah points it out to him. “If you need anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you, Curtis. Oh, and next time Anastas is so open with my personal information, tell him I won’t be so forgiving.” Dinah closes the door behind with him a sigh, her brain still trying to process everything. In a way, it seems to complicate her and Laurel’s relationship impossibly, but in another, it feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

Sneaking over to her bedroom, she carefully opens the door as she holds her breath. She slowly releases it when she finds Laurel fast asleep, her back turned to Dinah and the blanket pulled all the way up to her face. A small smile steals onto Dinah’s face as she watches her. Deciding to let her sleep for however long she wants, Dinah gets started on her original objective: cleaning the apartment.

***

After Curtis’ visit, Laurel’s complaining  _ almost  _ stops. She doesn’t argue when Dinah wants to check her wounds, doesn’t complain about whatever’s on the TV even though neither of them is paying attention, and she  _ asks _ for Dinah’s help instead of simply demanding it, and, on more than one occasion, she’s even  _ thanked _ Dinah for doing something for her. Dinah’s sure something alien must have possessed her when she was napping, but if it makes the rest of this experience as painless as possible, Dinah won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If she’s lucky, she can make it through this without having to acknowledge any of her feelings.

And then it’s time for Laurel to go back home. Dinah offers to drive her, but Laurel insists on calling a cab, saying Dinah has done so much for her already. Dinah tries not to take it as Laurel simply wanting to get away from her as fast as possible. Though, she supposes she can’t blame her — they  _ have _ been basically living together for the past week.

“Well, this has been an… experience,” Laurel says, averting her gaze as she readies herself to leave.

“Yeah.” Dinah almost offers to carry her to the cab, even though she’s been walking on her own for nearly a day. Dinah’s pretty sure she could have walked on her own even before then if she wanted to, but Laurel hadn’t said anything and then neither had Dinah.

“I better go.” Laurel swallows visibly, and then her eyes finally meet Dinah’s, the green in them softening. It hits Dinah like a ton of bricks, and she has to stop herself from surging forward. “Goodbye.” A pause. “Dinah.” It’s the first time during her stay she has actually spoken Dinah’s name, and the sound of it takes Dinah’s breath away.

“Goodbye, Laurel,” she says, grabbing onto the open door. Laurel nods, and then she disappears out the door. Dinah would be lying if she said she didn’t linger longer than necessary before closing the door, not quite ready for Laurel not being a constant presence anymore. 

When she turns back to face her apartment, every part of it feels much too empty. A coldness settles in Dinah that has nothing to do with the air.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinah’s first day back at work is weird. It feels the same as always, and yet all it really does is help solidify the fact that Laurel is gone and she has to go back to her life. Anastas tells her he’s happy she’s feeling better, and Dinah’s thankful Curtis hadn’t told him anything about what she had actually been doing.

Work goes by the way it does most days. Dinah spends most of it cooped up in her office, catching up on paperwork she’d missed when she was “sick”. There is still a hint of guilt in her stomach at having feigned sickness to get out of work, but the knowledge that Laurel is out there, alive, more than makes up for it. Now, all Dinah can hope for is that her feelings disappear and the two of them can go back to hating each other.

Of course, that’s not so easy when Laurel decides to suddenly show up in her office. Worse still is that Dinah’s first instinct when she sees her is to  _ smile _ . Not even at Laurel, who is speaking to one of the rookies when Dinah spots her. But the smile just forces its way onto her lips regardless.

When Laurel turns and spots her through the glass of her office, Laurel waves, leaving the rookie in favor of walking towards her. Dinah’s heart skips a beat and she tries to find anything else to focus on. Her search proves futile when Laurel enters the office, two coffees in hand from the café down at the corner.

“Hello, Captain Drake.” Laurel smiles awkwardly, placing the cup down in front of her.

“Laurel…” Dinah says, dragging out her name as she eyes the coffee suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit you.” The look Laurel gives her tells her it should have been obvious. Which, to be fair, it is, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an underlying reason. “Sooo, how’s work?” Laurel sits down at the edge of her desk, glancing down at the documents Dinah had been signing. Dinah comes to the conclusion that this is either her weird way of thanking Dinah, or Laurel had nothing better to do than be a nuisance to someone.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to spend your days?” Dinah covers the documents with a closed folder as she finally wraps her hand around the coffee.

“Nope. I’m unemployed, and the only thing I have to do with my days is be bored. Unless, of course, you  _ want _ me to get into more fights.” Laurel sips her own coffee and looks expectantly at Dinah’s, waiting for her to do the same. Dinah sighs as she finally lifts the cup to her lips, giving it a skeptical taste. To her surprise, it’s exactly how she likes it, and she finds herself taking a bigger sip than expected.

“Don’t you want something to do with your days?” Dinah asks genuinely, leaning back in her chair.

“I guess.” Laurel shrugs, picking at something on Dinah’s desk. “Hey, they’re still looking for a new DA, right?”

“ _ You  _ want to be the new DA?” Dinah never thought she would see the day.

“The other Laurel was good at it, right? So it’s in my DNA. And I read all those books when I was holed up in Quentin’s apartment, I might as well use all that knowledge for something.” Dinah wasn’t around in Star City when the other Laurel was DA, but Laurel’s words have a certain reason to them.

“If it’s what you see yourself doing…”

“It is. Thank you for the chat, Captain.” Laurel offers her a mock-salute as she slides off the desk, readying herself to leave.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Dinah says, lifting it up as she watches Laurel leave.

***

Apparently, Laurel has decided that coming by with coffee should be a daily thing. Prior to getting her first paycheck, Dinah has no idea how she affords them. Of course, she gets the job as DA. No matter  _ Laurel’s _ qualifications, all she had to do was show up pretending to be this Earth’s Laurel and City Hall practically begged her to come back. Laurel had had great joy in telling that story, and Dinah couldn’t help but find her enthusiasm entirely too cute.

Laurel is a surprisingly good DA. Dinah’s not really that surprised that she’s a good lawyer, she just never thought she would see Laurel Lance, reformed Black Siren,  _ prosecuting _ criminals. Dinah goes to one of the trials and is completely blown away by how skilled she is, despite having had virtually no place to practice other than with Quentin’s books. If anyone asks, she only went to the trial because she had overseen the case. It has nothing to do with the way Laurel’s eyes brighten as they land on her in the benches.

***

As time passes, Laurel bringing her coffee turns into Laurel bringing her lunch. The first time it happens, Dinah thinks her eyes deceive her.

Laurel is later than usual. She usually stops by with coffee right before work, having been forced to work her visits around her new schedule. Dinah thinks that she has probably finally figured out that she has long since paid whatever debt she might have had, and decided she’s done with Dinah. She should have known it was a mistake to get used to having Laurel in her life.

But, as if on cue, right when Dinah’s stomach alerts her it’s time for lunch, Laurel steps through the doors. Instead of the usual coffee, a white bag is hanging from her hand, but Dinah can’t discern the logo on it with all the distance between them.

Dinah’s colleagues have long since grown accustomed to Laurel showing up, and they simply greet her with a smile and get out of her way. As the door is pushed open, Dinah clears the front of her desk and greets Laurel with a smile.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to what she can now clearly see is a Big Belly Burger to-go bag.

“Lunch,” Laurel says, gently putting it down on the desk before pulling up a chair. “You eat lunch, right?”

“Isn’t this a bit much for lunch?” Despite her comment, Dinah’s mouth waters as Laurel opens up the bag.

Laurel shrugs, handing over a burger, a container of fries, and a… milkshake? Oh, well, lunch is lunch, as her stomach lets her know when she takes too long just staring at everything. She grabs a few fries, but before she can carry them to her mouth, Laurel’s hand stops her. Dinah tries not to fixate on the soothing warmth the gesture brings with it.

“What?” she asks, watching Laurel’s hand as it leaves her own and reaches for Dinah’s milkshake.

“You dip it—” Laurel pulls the lid off, placing it on a napkin— “in this.” Laurel nods at her encouragingly, but all Dinah feels is doubt as she gingerly dips a single fry in her drink. “You’re supposed to eat it,” Laurel sighs, staring at where Dinah is just holding the fry. 

Resigning herself to her fate, Dinah puts the fry into her mouth. Right before she can taste it, she thinks that  _ at least _ she hasn’t eaten yet, so if it’s disgusting, she won’t have that much to throw up. However, as the fry and milkshake combo properly makes contact with her tongue, Dinah finds it oddly tasty.

“Good, right?” Laurel asks, the smile back on her face as her eyes linger where the fry disappears. Dinah clears her throat, and Laurel’s gaze slowly travels up to meet Dinah’s, as if she wants to make sure Dinah knows she was looking.  _ When did the precinct get so hot? _

“Yeah,” is all Dinah manages to force out. She busies herself with her burger so she doesn’t have to say anything else, and they finish their lunch in blessed silence. Dinah surprises herself by eating the rest of her fries like the first — dipped in milkshake.

***

And then lunch dates become a thing they do. Like clockwork, Laurel shows up every single day. Dinah knows the precinct has started gossiping about why the DA and the Captain of Police spend so much time together, but she tunes it out for the most part. Dinah finds herself more than happy to just let it happen, even if something is always scratching at the back of her mind, telling her this is bound to end. Either by Laurel discovering she doesn’t want to do this anymore, or because of some tragedy. Those do tend to follow Dinah around.

When Laurel shows up at Dinah’s apartment on both their days off, Dinah fully expects this to be the day something bad has finally happened.

“I need your help.” Dinah can’t quite believe that’s actually Laurel asking.

“What?” she says, too stunned to do anything else as Laurel pushes past her into her apartment.

“Someone from my past is in town. I don’t know what they want, but they’ve called for a meeting. I was hoping you could come along as backup?” When all Dinah does is stare, trying to process the scene unfolding in her apartment, Laurel crosses her arms, and that all too familiar pout graces her lips.

“You’re the Laurel Lance born on Earth-2, right?” Dinah asks, finally gaining enough control over herself to close the door.

“Haha, very funny,” Laurel says drily. “Will you come with me or not?”

“Why me?” The words tumble out before Dinah can stop them, but she’s curious for the answer anyway.

Laurel’s eyes narrow, but she averts her gaze before softly admitting, “Because I trust you.” 

The admission softens Dinah up, and all her questions fall away. “Of course, I’ll help,” she says, already grabbing her gun. No old friends of Laurel’s can mean anything good.

“Thank you.” Laurel’s eyes meet Dinah’s again, and Dinah finds herself lost in them.

The meeting place is in some abandoned warehouse on the outer edge of town, because  _ of course _ it is. They park a block away and split up, Dinah keeping to the shadows as Laurel goes to her meeting. Despite not having her Canary suit on, moving along the shadowed streets of Star City is second nature to her, and Dinah never strays far as she makes sure to always have Laurel in her sight.

Being basically on her own, however, leaves her with a lot of time to think. As happy as she is that Laurel came to her instead of just barging into a possible trap, Dinah can’t help but shake how uncharacteristic it is. Laurel doesn’t ask for help. She makes a decision and throws herself at it.

Someone approaches Laurel, and Dinah leaves that train of thought for another time. She had convinced Laurel to wear a comm so she can hear everything that’s being said, but for now it’s only all too mundane. The person starts to walk, and Laurel follows with a glance over her shoulder in Dinah’s direction. And so, Dinah follows as well, just from a little higher up.

The conversation that follows, when Laurel is finally taken to whoever it was she knew before, is hard to pay attention to. It’s clear they want Laurel’s help to do something highly illegal, and Dinah finds herself more interested in keeping an overview of the perimeter than figuring out the specifics.

Not doing anything other than letting her eyes wander, her thoughts go back to the matter from before. She thinks of their lunches, and how they started with something as simple as coffee. Her initial theory of Laurel just feeling like she owed her doesn’t quite hold up with how long she’s held it up for. Because surely, if that was it, they would have long since stopped hanging out together. 

Thinking back further, she realizes Laurel had changed before she ever thought to bring Dinah coffee. Something had changed when she was still healing up in Dinah’s apartment. She had grown less hostile, less  _ defensive _ . More compliant. But what had happened before everything changed?

Something changes in the room below, and Dinah gives it her full attention.

“I’ve told you, I don’t care what you think I owe you, I won’t help you with this,” Laurel says, looking around herself with her head held high and her eyes narrow, masking what Dinah instantly recognizes as anxiety.

“Well that just won’t do,” one of the others says, gesturing to one of the hired guns. Before they can raise their weapon, Dinah’s bullet hits their kneecap. She gets another shot off before they finally make her location.

Jumping down, she says, “The lady refused. Count your losses and go home.”

Dinah rolls her eyes when the head of the group calls for their death.  _ So predictable _ . 

Laurel lets out a cry, but they obviously expect it from her, all but one just barely managing to dodge it. Sharing a look, Dinah runs around to their flank, using her gun mostly just to keep them from hitting her. When she’s in position, Laurel lets out a calculated cry, herding most the gunmen into the perfect position to be hit by the cry Dinah unleashes. That, they were definitely  _ not _ expecting.

While the members of the group still standing get their bearings, Dinah runs back near to where Laurel is. Even though there hadn’t been that much distance between them, she feels better being closer to her.

After a couple more bullets and calculated cries, only the leader and one other are left standing. Dinah spots the gun raised at her a fraction too late to react, but she finds herself pulled out of the way anyway, pushed up against a metal container with Laurel merely an inch away.

Standing so close, Dinah can’t help her thoughts wandering, searching for the catalyst that had made Laurel tolerate her. One second, she was being as difficult as she could be. The next, she agreed to nearly everything Dinah said.

Or, not a second. Rather, a nap. Laurel had fallen asleep on Dinah’s shoulder still showing distaste to the whole situation. But when Dinah had woken her for dinner, she had been only all too happy to let Dinah carry her to the couch and eat whatever she was offered. One nap, and one visit from Curtis. One nap, and one instance of Dinah accidentally saying her feelings out loud.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“You heard.” Dinah can’t help the words from tumbling out, despite the two people still standing.

“What?” Laurel asks, looking at her as if she had spoken Greek.

“I thought you were asleep, but you heard,” Dinah accuses, everything becoming so much clearer.

“Can we talk about whatever this is when we  _ aren’t _ dealing with people who want to kill us?” Laurel asks, and as if on cue, a bullet whizzes past their heads. Dinah rolls her eyes as she shoots the gun’s owner’s kneecap, then peeks out of cover to do the same for the last guy.

“There,” she says, turning back to Laurel.

“Great, thanks for the help.” Laurel turns around, looking like she’s about to leave, but Dinah grabs her arm before she can.

“No. We’re talking about this.” They can’t just leave it like this now.

“What’s there to talk about?” Laurel’s eyes are defiant as she turns back to face Dinah.

“That day, when Curtis came over, you were napping. I  _ checked _ on you.” Laurel remains silent, staring at a place above Dinah’s shoulder. “But you must have heard. Because then you decided to be  _ nice _ , or at least however close you come to it.”

“Fine.” Laurel throws her hands around as she finally meets Dinah’s gaze. “You were yelling, it’s not like it was hard.”

Now that she has gotten the admission, the fight in Dinah simmers down. She can’t wrap her head around what this means. Had Laurel been nice to her just because she felt bad?

“What, that’s it?” Laurel asks, taking a step forward and putting the two of them much too close. Dinah takes an answering step backwards, putting her right back against the container.

“I—” she starts, but she can’t think of anything coherent as Laurel steps forward again, landing her so,  _ so _ close to Dinah.

“Suddenly the Canary has nothing to sing?”  _ What does Laurel care, anyway? She had tried to avoid this conversation in the first place. _

“Why’d you keep coming back to see me?” Dinah asks, standing her ground despite being trapped between Laurel and the metal against her back.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Laurel shakes her head, and a fire lights up inside Dinah.

“How is anyone supposed to know anything with you? When I took you in — covering up a crime scene, by the way, not that you care—”

“That would make it so much easier for you, wouldn’t it? Ooh, Black Siren’s scary, and bad, and she has no  _ feelings _ like us  _ humans _ .” Somehow, Laurel has managed to move even closer to her, and every time she speaks, Dinah feels her breath on her face. “It never even occurred to you that maybe I took time out of my day to spend with you because I  _ liked _ it. Because maybe, just maybe, I didn’t just want to let you go when I no longer had an excuse to stay.”

_ An excuse to stay. _ Like Laurel had wanted to stay behind in her apartment, to not break the bubble they had created for themselves.

“Did you?” she asks, her eyes lowering themselves to Laurel’s lips as she waits for a reply that never comes. What happens instead is Dinah suddenly finding herself even more firmly pressed up against the container, Laurel’s body pushing against her front as soft lips search out Dinah’s.

Dinah’s arms wrap around Laurel, pulling her even closer as if she needs her more than air. Whatever she had expected to happen this day, it certainly hadn’t been this, but as she bites at Laurel’s bottom lip to get her mouth open, Dinah really can’t find it in herself to care. She’s only all too happy to let the kiss continue for however long they can before they’ll need to properly breathe. 

Maybe she’ll get lucky and that moment will never come.

Of course, luck never has favored her.

“Does that answer your question?” Laurel asks as she pulls back, an adorable pout on her kiss-swollen lips as they look at each other.

“I think I might need a few more answers,” Dinah says, pushing closer to her again. Laurel indulges her for a few seconds, before taking a proper step back.

“As much as I would love to continue this, don’t we have to deal with them?” For just a second, Dinah wishes she wasn’t part of the SCPD as she looks around at the mess of unconscious bodies. They’ll have to find some way to explain this in a way that doesn’t amount to “the current DA is a reformed villain and the Captain of the SCPD is a former vigilante”.

But after, once they can leave this behind, Dinah has plans for exactly how to spend her evening.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr @wardenroot


End file.
